Monday 8 September 2014

Sermon Opoho Church Sunday 7th September 2014 Pentecost 13 Quarterly Communion

Readings:  Psalm 119: 33-40, Romans 13:8-10, Matthew 18: 15-20

Let us pray:  May your word for us, O God, speak into our hearts and minds, challenge us, encourage us and assure us in our faith and our living, in Jesus name.  Amen

Love does no wrong to a neighbour.  Therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.

The minimalist in me enjoys it enormously when I find just a few words to encompass and express my understanding of what it is that I believe, how it is that I am called to live as a Christ follower.  After comes the waterfall of words that help explain, understand and play out just what is meant but just for a moment I love to rest in simple revelation.  Love does no wrong to a neighbour. 
Let us begin with some simple expansions:  Love is here is a  behaviour rather than an emotion, something we have to remind ourselves of in a world that uses the word ‘love’ almost totally emotionally.  Our neighbours know that we love them by our actions, by how we treat them – rather than by an assurance of emotive words.
Neighbour – who is our neighbour – everyone – our families, our enemies, our friends, our checkout operator, our colleagues, the petrol-heads next door. Jesus makes that very clear.
‘Does no wrong’ – sometimes it is good and helpful to turn a phrase around – instead of ‘does good’ here we have ‘does no wrong’.  In some funny way in my head that is more challenging because, for me, it cuts off my option of doing nothing.  ‘Doing good’ seems to me to allow me to choose to step out but also to sit in neutral more than I should, ‘doing no wrong’ doesn’t allow me to get away with doing nothing when doing nothing causes harm!  It helps take away the option of being an observer!
Now we move into some deeper meaning.
Love is the fulfilling of the law – what is Paul saying here?  It doesn’t mean that suddenly law is unnecessary and can be done away with, nor can it be seen as an achievement in some evolutionary way, where it is a pinnacle, a perfection reached, an end result.  Rather, says Paul, the law continues to be needed, continues govern our way of living – but law is not longer in charge, law becomes the servant of love, law must carry love’s passion for justice and peace, law in fact is measured by love and (here is the big question) therefore can law be bypassed when it violates the demands of love, when the way of Caesar causes us to violate the love of neighbour. 
Now there is a challenge – words like subversive and chaotic and unsafe immediately spring to mind I suspect.  Law can be bypassed when it violates the demands of love.  And let me say this: this is not about our wisdom suggesting a better way, I am talking about when the voice of Christ shouts in our hearts: ‘This is wrong, this causes harm’. 
 One of the things that has totally intrigued me in my attendance at General Assemblies sits very much in this camp.  And that is the sense of helplessness that takes hold and almost immobilises me (and others I suspect) when a purely legal process of debate and majority voting ends in a resulting decision that is just plain harmful, that every bit of my being which believes so strongly that ‘love does no wrong to my neighbour’ rebels against – and whilst I speak out against the decisions, the real question is, do I abide by a decision that I believe is wrong because a legal process expects me to.  It’s a hugely disturbing question for all of us.  This understanding of love being the fulfilling of the law challenges me to therefore reject law which is unChristlike.  And to be honest the culture of accepting democratic decisions is pretty deeply instilled in us because we fear the alternatives: anarchy, despotism, tyranny.  It’s a neat little box we place ourselves in isn’t it, a place of acceptance of something we feel is wrong because it has gone though what we consider are fair decision making processes.  Same with elections – I can believe that a policy of a party that diminishes the vulnerable is wrong but obviously others don’t so I will do as they say until I use the process to change the law. We have this reluctance to accept a third option – to choose to speak out and act out against any law that violates the demands of love.   Well I reckon Jesus would say that is not good enough.  I reckon Jesus would say that letting the market sort accommodation issues in Christchurch is wrong – it violates the demands of love. I reckon Jesus would say that excluding anyone from leadership in the church because of who they born to be rather than for discerning their call to ministry is equally violating the demands of love.  I reckon that laws that do nothing to remove child poverty or fail to recognise the dire state of the planet or protect the rights of the rich and powerful to the detriment of the vulnerable are laws that need to be challenged.  Doing no harm to neighbours.  Yeah right!
Yet the arguments to work only within the legal processes are compelling.  It is easy to assume that there is a greater collective worldly wisdom  and the arguments of ‘It’s much more complex than that’ and the ‘chaos if everyone did what they thought was right’ are powerful squelchers of our independent thought, our desire to live with love as our measure in all our actions. 
So where do we go from here – how do we stop this just being a slightly edgy sermon and make it into a challenge for living in Christ’s way?
Yesterday I had some extremely interesting conversation about how we as Christians engage with the world and, in particular, political systems.  Do we engage from the edge, being a watcher and occasional engager or do we get ourselves right in there, become part of the system so that we can change things from within – as two Presbyterian Ministers have done - David Clark nationally and Glen Livingstone in Christchurch Council?  Or do we disassociate completely?  Fifty years ago, preaching politics from the pulpit could and did result in removal from ministry – happened in our Methodist Church in Balclutha.  That I suspect is disassociation, living in a bubble of self righteousness.
A group of us began with watching a online clip from a US Chat show – where the presenter, a non Christian, said some pretty hard things to listen to – pointing out the huge gulf between Christ’s teachings of peace, equality, justice, mercy and ‘Christians’ who actively excluded, made war, spoke and acted violently, amassed fortunes on the backs of the broken and downtrodden.
Then we talked about how long a US President or anyone in high places of power might last if they put Christ’s law of love above the law of the land for retribution, riches and political dominance.  Not long – we suspected – but goodness would it speak loudly to the world.
So what to do?
Now I may get myself in real trouble here – but it struck me as I read again the passage from Matthew that here was a teaching that might just suggest to us a way of being love not just within the church but also in the world. 
When a person, or a law, or a process has offended against the demands of love, speak to that fault, you yourself and in the company of others.  If it is still unchanged tell it to the wider church, or to the world, and if love continues to be rejected then walk away from it, holding fast to the way of Christ knowing that in the reconciling power of Christ, love will triumph over hatred, grace over division, mercy over retribution.

And as we come to the table today, can we be reminded of how many times divisions and anger and hatred have been put aside when we have been able to eat at table together, when we share life stories, food, hospitality with each other and with Christ.  Here, in the presence of Christ, we recognise not only our own humanity, but the humanity of our neighbours, whom we are called to do no wrong to.  Amen


Margaret Garland

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